


The Birth of War

by the_demi_modest



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #War, #cain and abel, #four horsemen, #good omens, #ineffable, #mention of blood, #reference to violence but no descriptions, #the birth of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_demi_modest/pseuds/the_demi_modest
Summary: Just a quick short about Cain and Abel and what happens after.
Kudos: 7





	The Birth of War

_“Okay, Crawly, go up there and make some more trouble.”_

So once again Crowley is watching Adam and Eve. They’ve got two sons now. Who knows where the rest are supposed to come from. Cain’s doing the gardening thing like his dad, and Abel has been thinking outside the box and caring for sheep for the sake of their wool. 

Everything’s going fine until one day they decide to give offerings to the Almighty by lighting them on fire. This is apparently something She approves of, though Crowley has no idea why fire has to be involved. He’s curious to see the angel’s fiery sword in action though. No intention of making trouble, just curious.

(He’s in no hurry to head back to the stinking sulfur pits in Hell anyway.)

Soon enough, he overhears this conversation:

“Hey Abel, I’m going to give G-d a thank you gift—by lighting it on fire!”

“Cool.”

“Because we made it to year’s end and my plants didn’t die.”

“Neato.”

“So I’m going to light these leftovers on fire.”

“Okay, big bro’.”

“Now you burn something.”

He passes Abel the fiery sword.

“Let’s see, I have… sheep.”

“You do.”

“We made it to year’s end and my sheep didn’t die.”

“Okay. So you could get some wool or someth—”

“So I’ll _kill_ my best sheep, then light it on fire.”

“Holy asgjaglasahagd, Abel! What the aldgjadghsga did you just do?!”

“What? I said I’d kill it first.”

“Aaljadkghsaahkag…”

Crowley/Crawly’s pretty traumatized himself. No one’s been eating more than “herbs” yet for reasons inexplicable, so this barbecue is frankly a waste. He slithers about and overhears Cain talking G-d:

“Why did you like Abel’s offering more than mine?”

“DO THE RIGHT THING, CAIN.”

And, well, that seems about as vague as the whole _“The day wherein thou eatest of it…”_ business.

Meanwhile, Abel hasn’t given the sword back.

Over the next few days, Crowley watches Cain and Abel curiously as over and over Cain tries to talk to Abel, claiming his sacrifice was better and so he gets to keep the sword. Abel keeps saying that if Cain would just “do the right thing,” he’d get kudos from the Almighty too.

Fancy burning the carcass of a living creature and just enjoying the smell, thinks Crowley. He sends a memo back to Hell’s Envy Department, with a CC to Pride and Gluttony in case of further developments: “Humans like the smell of meat. Keep this in mind.”

At last, Cain seems to hit the end of his rope. There is definitely some Wrath going on and Crowley decides to follow the two brothers out into the field for the argument. Out of the blue, Cain grabs a rock and beats Abel’s head in. Abel drops the fiery sword (understandably) and Cain tries to run. Crowley dives for a foxhole when a flash of blinding light erupts from the sky: The Almighty Herself has shown up, late as always.

“CAIN, WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?” She asks, in Her usual rhetorical fashion.

“Dunno,” says Cain. True enough. There’s certainly something about Abel that’s gone somewhere no human has gone before. But then, _then_ , to Crowley’s horrified delight, Cain matches rhetoric for rhetoric and says, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Crowley wants to cheer. They’re asking questions. The humans are actually asking questions of _Her_.

“I TOLD YOU TO DO THE RIGHT THING,” She says. “THE EARTH IS METAPHORICALLY SCREAMING ABOUT THIS BLOOD. YOU’RE BANISHED. YOU CAN’T BE AROUND CIVILIZED PEOPLE.”

And Cain’s reaction isn’t about the lack of sheep or crops in the wild. Instead he says, “But if anyone finds me, they’ll kill me.”

Well, that’s interesting, thinks Crowley. Cain’s a sharp one. He knows he hasn’t done anything special. He just figured out anyone could do what he did. 

The Almighty gives Cain a mark on his head that says, “If this man dies and it’s your fault, seven of your generations will die.” Then he’s banished and She leaves. 

“How’s that going to make anything better?” Crowley wonders. “For every death, seven more? If you ask me…” Azrael the angel of Death appears in a ploom of black smoke, and Crowley cuts himself off. “Hey there, Azrael, ol’ buddy.”

“IS THIS IS YOUR DOING, FALLEN?” asks Azrael.

“Nah. They do it to themselves. Both were certifiably insane, if you ask me.”

He noticed a cinnamon-haired, girl-like being is clinging to Azrael’s robe, looking at the blood with far too much interest.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’m War.”

“You’re… what?”

She picks up the sword. “Oh, this is interesting.”

“You’re not human,” Crowley says. She’s very small but she also has a _terrifying_ grin.

“Nope,” she says.

“You’re not a demon.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re certainly not an angel.”

“Nope.”

“What _are_ you?”

“I don’t know,” says the girl. “But I used to feel like a wolf. I killed sheep.”

“That… so?”

“And now I feel like a human. This is fun. Ask me more questions.”

Crowley’s always been faster than most.

“Are you here because of Cain?” 

“Oh yes, but he’s no fun anymore.”

“Why is that?”

“He doesn’t want to kill anyone, and no one’s going to kill him. If they do, won’t that be fun? Anyway, I guess I’ll just have to wait for Adam and Eve to have more children so I can play.”

“You’re going to… Oh dear…”

Crowley decides if he ever meets Aziraphale again, he’s not going to bring up what’s become of his favorite angel’s sword. 


End file.
